


The Binding Ring Job

by Hagar, Poetry



Category: Jewish Scripture & Legend, Leverage, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Background Parker/Eliot/Hardison, Community: pod_together, Crossover, Gen, Jewish Character(s), Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours, Post-Canon, Season 02, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/pseuds/Hagar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: When the Leverage team runs into a mark with a very distinctive ring, Eliot has a phone call to make. On the other side of the country, Magnus’s night just got Interesting, the headache-inducing way.





	The Binding Ring Job

**Author's Note:**

> The creators recommend putting away all food, beverages and smokes before reading or listening to this work.
> 
> All sound effects from [Freesound](http://freesound.org/). Music is "The Perfect Crime 2" by the Decemberists.

 

 

[Download](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2017/The%20Binding%20Ring%20Job.mp3)

* * *

 

Simon fidgeted by the door. He was a few minutes late. How he managed that given vampire speed was - perhaps less of a surprise than he was comfortable admitting. He was late because he was nervous, and he was dawdling by the apartment door instead of ringing the bell because he was, well, nervous. Enough so to be tempted to turn back, but Magnus would be angry, and besides, Magnus set this meeting up for him because Simon was _lonely._

Simon huffed in frustration, and made himself ring that doorbell.

Lisa opened the door a moment later. She was in her thirties, with ear-length dense curls and a round, friendly face. “Simon! Hi, I’m Lisa. Come on in.”

The apartment he stepped into was, without a question, that of a scholar. The living room’s walls were covered with bookcases, and there were yet books on the coffee table and the couch. According to Magnus, Lisa Hertz knew - or knew of - every Jewish person in the city who was aware of the Downworld. That made her Simon’s gateway to a support system that wasn’t Raphael, and mostly-normal new friends he wouldn’t have to keep secrets from - at least, major secrets like _being a vampire._

“Hi. Um - yeah. Nice to - actually, I’m _so_ relieved to meet you.”

“I can imagine. We tend to keep apart from the goyische Downworld.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Honestly? _Shadowhunters._ Ran into those yet?”

“Unfortunately.”

She pointed with her finger. “Exactly. Did you know they’re descended from crusaders?”

“That explains _so_ much.”

“Who else would think drinking angel blood is a good idea, right? Now, let me get my journals; then we can talk.”

Then, instead, the phone rang.

 

* * *

 

_Minutes Before_

The pre-job debrief for their latest case was going along as planned until Eliot leaned forward, suddenly tense. “Wait. Hold up. Zoom in on Cogan’s hands for a second.”

Hardison paused in his presentation and obligingly zoomed in on the mark’s head of security’s hands.

“Closer, closer - okay.” Eliot got up from his chair and went near the monitors, to inspect from up-close whatever it was that caught his eye.

“What do you see?” Parker asked after a moment.

“I _might_ be wrong; I’ll have to ring up a contact to be sure. But this looks like a very distinctive kind of a ring, and if I’m right then we’ll need to either abort this job or get some backup. Some seriously specialized backup.”

“What’s that ring?” Hardison prompted. “Yakuza, bratva…?”

Eliot’s Look spoke volumes. “Since when do _those_ call for backup?”

“Well, I doubt this ring means INTERPOL,” Hardison retorted.

Parker intervened before the conversation could deteriorate to Hardison’s and Eliot’s usual bickering. “So what does it mean?” she asked.

Eliot hesitated a long moment before finally, he said: “Demons. That’s a control ring - if I’m right - and it means if Cogan knows what he’s doing, he can summon and control fucking _demons_.”

“Demons, seriously? Now I know that you’re just messing with us, man,” Hardison said. “There’s no way you expect us to believe that. You don’t believe it, right, Parker? Parker?”

Parker’s face was serious, though. “Eliot doesn’t mess with us. Not about jobs. Not about anything. So if Eliot says there’s demons…” She hesitated. “How come we never ran into them before?”

“We did; the kind that can look like anyone, unless you know what to look for. I can see them, and I look right back at them. Most demons won’t pick on a target that can fight back; so they look at us, then turn right back around.”

Hardison raised his hand. “Uh, am I the only one disturbed by us talking about demons?”

“No,” Eliot answered, emphatically. “And if you’re gonna ask why I never brought it up before - well, look at how we’re doing now, and think how it might’ve gone if I just up and said, by the way, demons are real.”

“Look, there’s a lot of things I’ll just take your word for - but demons? Are there angels too?”

“That’s a little more debatable, but there’s people around who claim they have angel blood, and they can definitely do shit the rest of us can’t.”

“Vampires? Werewolves?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Zombies?”

“If you get on the wrong side of the wrong warlock.”

“ _Warlock?_ ”

“They’re what happens when a demon gets in bed with a human.”

Silence stretched.

“Okay,” Hardison said eventually. “O-kay. You actually mean this. Parker?”

“Eliot doesn’t mess with us,” she repeated. “And he’s never wrong, not when he uses the d-word.”

“Girl, we talked about this, it’s the d- _and_ - _v_ words.” Hardison said.

Simultaneously, Eliot said: “Oh, I _hope_ I’m wrong. But if we’re done debating whether or not I’m the wrong kind of crazy for you people, can I call my contact now?”

Hardison winced at that comment, then shook his head. “Please do.”

 

* * *

 

“Yes, I’m refreshing my inbox. No, it hasn’t arrived yet - wait! I have one new message. All right, let’s see… Oh. Hold while I get some books.” Lisa put her phone down on the kitchen table, next to her laptop, went in the other room and returned a moment later with a thick binder, which she flipped through even as she walked.

When she put the binder on the table, Simon could see it was full of diagrams and photocopied pictures. She checked the photos she’d been sent against a few photos and several diagrams before she picked the phone again. “There’s good news and bad news. And you want me to start with the good news.”

Vampire hearing meant Simon could hear the guy on the other end of the line, whose name was Eliot, say: “What’s the good news, then?”

“This ring doesn’t match the design for summoning demonic royalty.”

Silence stretched for a long moment before Eliot responded with: “Please don’t say we’re dealing with…”

“Greater demons. Yup. That’s the bad news. There’s one more bit of good news, though; it usually takes a certain lineage or a _very_ specific lifestyle to power up one of those. And if this guy’s one of your targets, then he doesn’t have the lifestyle part down.”

“We call them marks. He works for one.”

“Close enough. There’s one more thing I can think of - he probably takes it off at night. Otherwise something would’ve eaten his brains out by now.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Honestly? Either. Or both.”

“ _Great._ I’m going to have to ask you another favor,” Eliot continued after a moment, “a little more uncomfortable than IDing a summoning artifact.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to need backup.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus’s phone rang. It was only about an hour after dark. Jace had already gone to sleep - or perhaps didn’t yet wake up: his schedule was as erratic as could be expected given he’s never been in position to control his own time before. Magnus was taking advantage of that to work in the living room, as he preferred, rather than any of the specially-equipped studies that took up half the loft.

The name that flashed across the phone’s screen was _Lisa Hertz._ Magnus sighed. Lisa was a friend and something of a colleague. She was the most liberal - and the youngest - of the gatekeepers to New York’s J-side downworld. These were the reasons he referred Simon Lewis to her: the newly-made needed some friends of his own other than Clary Fairchild, or Magnus wouldn’t have the kid out of his hair for another century. So, Magnus had set him up with Lisa - and now she was calling, no doubt to say that Simon never showed up.

Hopefully Simon was merely anxious and didn’t get in trouble, _again_.

Magnus hit _accept_. “Hello, Lisa.”

“Hi, Magnus. So it looks like we have something of a problem.”

Magnus sighed. Of course they did. “What did Simon get into _now?_ ”

“What? No, he’s here, he’s fine; he’s adorable. No, Eliot Spencer called - remember him?”

“Refresh my memory.”

“He’s part of that crew that fixed up Debbie Lipschitz’s loans a couple years back - the free-range pilot?”

Oh, Magnus remembered _him_ , better than he remembered who Debbie Lipschitz was. Lisa’d only told him she’d added another person to her ever-widening circle after it was done. That was unusually trusting even for her, so Magnus had looked into Leverage Inc. “That’s right, I remember now. Is he still with the same crew?” If he wasn’t, then they had another problem.

“Yeah. And one of their marks has a binding ring. A _Greater_ binding ring.”

As their name suggested, binding rings were used to bind - summon and control - demons. They were finicky to produce and therefore quite rare, which was a good thing as a properly-made ring could be used by any Mundane who knew what they were doing. A Greater ring summoned a Greater demon; one like that in the hands of someone who had no scruples to stop them from using it was, indeed, bad news. However - “I don’t see how that’s my problem. Or yours, for that matter.”

“We-ell I suppose it isn’t, exactly, but - do you actually want to be a bystander on this? Because I don’t.”

“Lisa -”

“Yes, I know physically stepping into this is likely to get me killed. I’m not _that_ kind of an idiot. But I called Shoshi, and she called Meirav, and they decided they want that ring off the streets and in the safe.”

Magnus shut his eyes and exhaled. If the Bloodlines were willing to pick this fight up, then he could either join in or risk his relationship with them - a risk he wasn’t willing to take. “Fine. Fine. I’ll call Shoshi and find out who I’m supposed to be portalling over.”

“I can tell you; it’s Uri.”

Of course it was. It did, however, give Magnus an idea. “How about we all meet here?”

“Thank you. See you in a bit?”

“You too.” Magnus put the phone away.

Getting a Greater ring out of the hands of its holder was not going to be easy. Most likely this was going to involve a fight - and some of those rings could also control the progeny of the specific demon they targeted, whether demonic or warlock. They could potentially be facing a small army. Two pilots and himself may or may not be enough. Asking Alec was out of the question; there was no way to do that without Alec turning around and involving the Clave, and _that_ was sure way to destroy Magnus’s relationship with the Bloodlines. Besides, Magnus didn’t want to involve or even inform the Clave of anything if he didn’t absolutely have to.

And he _did_ have a Shadowhunter with one foot out the door in the other room.

There were several ways to proceed. Magnus considered, and picked the one guaranteed to also provide some entertainment.

“Gooooood morning starshine, the earth says hello; you twinkle above us, we twinkle below. Good morning starshine, you lead us along…”

It only took a moment for Jace to come in from the hallway, hair sticking every which way. “Magnus. _Why_ are you singing?”

Magnus turned around with a grin on his face. “Oh good, you’re awake. I wasn’t sure.”

Jace scowled. “Were you _trying_ to wake me up?”

“Actually, I was hoping you didn’t yet go to sleep, but waking up will also do.”

Jace’s scowl deepened. “Are you going to tell me _why?_ ”

“How do you feel about going on a very decidedly _not_ Clave-sanctioned little raid, to scare the kind of a Mundane who uses demons to terrorize and coerce other Mundanes?”

“How can a Mundane do that?”

“Are you in?”

“Of course I’m in, there’s demons involved and it’s not like they can kick me out _again_.”

“Then the answer is, they or their ancestors stayed far, far away from Shadowhunters. Or else they just got lucky and got their hands on an artifact created by such a person. Either way…”

“Demons, Mundanes, don’t mix; I get that. I’ll go get my gear. Just - if you can _please_ save the serenades for Alec, next time”

“Well, ‘Hair’ is hardly a serenade. Besides, George Frideric Handel always said...”

Jace didn’t bother to reply, or indeed stick around find out what the famous composer had supposedly said. Instead, he sighed deeply and turned back around and down the hallway.

Magnus shrugged to himself, and continued to the refrain.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” Simon asked as Lisa grabbed her keys and a jacket; she’d already put shoes on.

“No,” she answered. “Definitely not now that Uri’s confirmed. The Bloodlines don’t use magic if they can avoid it, I don’t know when there’ll be another chance. And you’re technically immortal, so you really want to make friends there.”

“What are the Bloodlines?”

Standing by the door, Lisa glanced around the apartment then indicated with her head that they were leaving.

“So you know some plain-flavor humans have the ability to interact with the Downworld?”

“You mean the Sight?”

“Yeah, it’s usually called that. But it can be more than that. Imagine someone with ‘the Sight’ has children with another Sighted person. About half their children will also be Sighted. Now imagine the children keep this up, until eventually, the entire bloodline becomes Sighted.”

“Is that even possible? I was told Mundanes with the Sight are rare.”

“It’s difficult, and rare, but it’s possible, yeah. That’s the Bloodlines, and they’re the primary reason we stay the _hell_ away from Shadowhunters.”

“Shadowhunters. Not Downworlders.”

Lisa gave Simon a Look. “Most Downworlders aren’t actually out to make more of their kind. Shadowhunters, historically, conscript. Most of the conscripts don’t make the transformation, so they usually go for those that have better odds.”

“Like Sighted people,” Simon realized.

“Exactly.”

“So those people you talked to today, after that guy called…”

“They’re from the Israeli Bloodlines. There’s some here, too, but they’re Hasidic. You want someone to make a ward, or a ring like the kind we’re dealing with now, you go to them. You want a pilot, you make your case to Shosh, and pray.”

“What’s a pilot?” Simon asked; he and Lisa were descending into the subway station.

“I’ll tell you at Magnus’s.”

 

* * *

 

About ten minutes after Eliot finished the call with his contact, his phone rang again. By then, Parker and Eliot were both done packing what they’d need for a short work trip, and Hardison claimed to be only halfway ready. In truth, in had everything he strictly _needed_ but nowhere near what he’d rather have.

Eliot answered the call with a clipped “Yeah.” Whoever it was on the other end had to’ve not been intimidated, because Eliot kept listening. Whatever the guy - or lady - said, though, it clearly didn’t make him happy. “Fine,” he bit out eventually, “see you soon.” Then he put the phone away, to Parker and Hardison, he said: “Looks like we won’t need a car after all. Turns out _Magnus fucking Bane_ ’s been here. Or the front floor, more accurately.”

“I don’t understand,” Parker said plainly.

“Warlocks need to’ve been somewhere to open a portal there.”

“Did you just say ‘portal’?” Hardison demanded, then exclaimed “Holy shit!” because a man just stepped out of thin air and unto the brew pub’s floor. “What the - okay, okay. _Portal._ ”

“Why can’t we see it?” Parker asked. “Is it invisible? Can you see it?” She turned to Eliot.

“You don’t have the Sight, so it’s invisible to you,” he replied.

“What’s the Sight? Why don’t I have it? Hardison, do you have it?”

“The Sight is the ability to _see things,_ Parker. Downworld things.”

Meanwhile, the man - the _warlock_ \- recovered from the double-take he initially did at Parker being, well, Parker. Hardison thought there was something comforting in knowing that even a - a - a _half demon_ who could create _portals_ needed a moment in face of Parker being, well, herself. He was a tall man, the warlock, of East Asian descent, and had a fashion sense that would’ve made Sophie weep with joy.

“There seems to be a genetic basis to the Sight,” he said. “Although understandably, modern science hasn’t pinned down the relevant genes. There are also spells that can grant one a partial Sight. If you’re interested…?”

Predictably - to Hardison, at least - Parker narrowed her eyes and took half a step back.

“Or not,” the warlock acknowledged. “Magnus Bane, pleased to make your acquaintance. Shall we?”

“Um, how do we -” Hardison began to ask, but never finished; Eliot offered his hand.

“Here,” he said.

Parker reached for Eliot’s other hand, but he shook his head slightly. “I’ve never been to his place,” he explained, inclining his head in Magnus’s direction. “Need to hold his hand so he can take us there.”

Parker considered, said “Okay,” then took Eliot’s hand and thrust her other one in Magnus’s direction, like a challenge.

Magnus’s lips twitched as if he understood exactly what Parker just did and why, and found it amusing. “Very well.”

Hardison had a few seconds to regret his choices as Magnus, then Parker and finally Eliot disappeared from his sight - and then he was standing in a very one-percent parlor; the words _living room_ were just plain wrong for anywhere that looked like _this_.

Standing across from their group was a young White man with entirely too many tattoos, who was wearing black and a scowl.

“That’s too many Mundanes,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Hardison replied promptly. He was pretty sure the word _Mundanes_ carried some special meaning in this context, but strange and new as the situation was to him, he damn well knew that tone of voice: it was the one that said _I think I’m better than you._ Hardison had an allergy to that tone. A _severe_ allergy.

“I’m just saying…” the Goth wannabe started to say.

Hardison had enough. He’d just met the guy, and already he’d had enough. It was _on._

 

* * *

 

“I’m just saying, Mundanes aren’t…”

“Oh, we aren’t _what_ , buddy?” asked the one who was so obviously soft, despite being tall and athletic.

“Hardison,” warned the one who looked like he might be trouble.

“Seriously? You’re on his side?”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Magnus said conciliatory. “Please. How about you save the hostilities at _least_ until we’ve all introduced ourselves properly. Drinks?” With a wave of his hand, the bar cart propelled itself over to where they were all standing, and a selection of glasses appeared on top of it.

Jace glared at the cart, indicating his disapproval. So did also - he noticed - maybe-trouble and the woman; the soft one glared at Magnus instead.

For his part, the warlock seemingly ignored all of them as he stepped over to the cart, but he _did_ snap his fingers and summoned a pitcher of water, which made two of the three Mundanes cool off some; the woman was still clearly unhappy.

Magnus ignored that as he began to prepare drinks. “We are still missing three of our party, but I do believe introductions are in order. Everyone, this is Jace.” He was handed a finger of whiskey in an elegant tumbler. “Jace, these are Eliot, Hardison, and Parker.” _Eliot_ was maybe-trouble, and Magnus handed him glass of wine, which he sniffed then grunted his approval; _Hardison_ was the soft one, and he received a white russian with a combination of glee and suspicion; and lastly, _Parker_ was the woman, and she took the tall glass of water as if it was her due yet also completely confused her at the same time.

“And you’re Magnus Bane,” Hardison added, before the warlock had the chance to introduce himself.

Magnus bowed slightly, martini in hand. “Indeed I am.”

“How’d you decide which names to choose?” Parker asked. “I mean I don’t care, but people do.” She said the word ‘people’ as if she wasn’t included in that grouping.

“Oh, we’re largely on a first-name basis here, but I do believe Alec’s first name will cause unnecessary confusion.”

Jace startled at the name - which Hardison responded to as if it was his. Right: Alec Hardison, first and last.

“Hn,” Magnus made a noncommittal sound. “That rather proves my point.”

“Who’s the other Alec?” Hardison asked.

“My parabatai,” Jace shot back.

“What’s a parabatai?”

“His partner, Hardison,” Eliot said gruffly - although Jace was getting to think that was just how he spoke.

“Well couldn’t he have just said that?”

“Now can we talk about what three Mundanes are doing…”

Magnus’s phone rang. He raised one finger to silence Jace - and the Mundanes, two of which were shaping up to speak - and answered the call. All he said, though, was “Yes?” and “Of course”; then he put the phone away and summoned up a portal.

Because clearly, what they needed was _another_ Mundane. The man who stepped through had thickly-framed brown eyes in a finely-chiseled heart-shaped face, and dark hair too short to tell if it was curled or merely wavy. He looked like the sort of a guy Alec’s eyes would linger on - if only he wasn’t barely taller than Izzy was barefoot.

The newcomer’s eyes danced over all of them, taking the situation in. “What’d I miss?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Magnus promised as he handed him a screwdriver.

“I totally missed a fight, didn’t I.”

Magnus ignored that. “Everyone, this is Uri. Uri, these are…” and Magnus repeated all of their names.

“Fine, have it your way.” Uri took a sip, then asked: “What’s the Shadowhunter doing here?”

“My job,” Jace shot back.

“No, you aren’t,” Uri replied easily. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Uri,” Magnus said. His voice fell just short of a warning. Clearly he actually knew this guy, unlike the other three.

“What’s a Shadowhunter?” Parker asked.

“Him,” Eliot answered and pointed at Jace. “See the markings? They’re called runes. All Shadowhunters have them.”

“Are they born like this?” Parker asked of Eliot, then turned to Jace. “Were you born like this?”

Jace stared at her a second before he answered: “No.”

“Is that how you become a Shadowhunter? What does that even mean?”

“No, you need to be born into it,” Uri said even as Eliot said “They’re the supernatural police. Or the military, if the rest of humanity is the civilian population.”

“That’s why you don’t want us here,” Parker said to Jace. “Because to you, we’re civilians.”

“Yes,” Jace agreed. “That’s exactly it.”

Parker thought about it a moment, then declared: “You’re adorable.”

Jace stared at her.

Hardison and Eliot exchanged a look, then clinked their glasses.

 

* * *

 

When Lisa and Simon arrived, Magnus ushered them in with an urgency that seemed odd to Simon - until he took stock of the scene in the living room. Simon wasn’t all that great at reading social situations and knew it, for all that he didn’t like to admit it. If even he could tell how awkward things seemed, then it had to be the world’s most awkward cocktail party.

There were four people there other than Jace, three men and a woman, all of whom were strangers to Simon. One of the men stood a little apart of the others; he was short, lean, and probably only a little older than Simon. The other two men stuck with the woman. The three of them were clearly standing apart from Jace, though it was possible Magnus had been occupying that empty space until he answered the door. Of the two men, one was tall and dressed like a hipster; the other had chin-length hair and looked like the sort of a guy who’d unironically wear flannels.

Lisa either didn’t notice the awkwardness, or didn’t pay it any attention. She headed straight for the guy who stood apart of the others. He hugged Lisa back as if it was perfectly natural.

“Uri! It’s been forever.”

“Rak b’smachot, Lisa.”

Simon’s nearly nonexistent Hebrew was still enough to understand what Uri said: _may we meet only on happy occasions,_ a sentiment Simon entirely agreed with.

When she pulled back from the hug, one of the other men - the one with the longer hair - nodded at her; she nodded back. That had to be Eliot, her contact. Then, she touched Uri’s arm and directed his attention to Simon.

“This is Simon. He’s new, he’s one of ours. Simon, Uri; Uri, Simon.”

Simon offered his hand for a shake. “Hi, it’s very nice to -”

Uri pulled Simon in for a bro-hug instead, complete with a back-slap. Simon _really_ should’ve seen that coming.

“What does one of ‘ours’ mean?” Jace asked.

“Jewish,” Lisa replied cheerfully.

Jace’s expression changed suddenly, going through several emotions in quick succession, the last of which being insight. He turned to Uri. “You’re Israeli!”

“Took you long enough,” Uri said easily at the same time Simon demanded: “How did you know?”

“Only country in the world without an Institute,” Jace said. He eyed Uri with new interest. “Are you even Mundane?”

Uri turned and looked at Magnus. He didn’t seem particularly happy.

Magnus looked at Jace. “The information we’re about to share must not go back to the Clave. If for no other reason,” he continued, overriding the objection Jace - predictably - was about to voice, “then because it absolutely must _not_ reach Valentine.”

“Why?” Jace asked.

“Because odds are that like most Shadowhunters, he believes that Mundanes from Sighted bloodlines are more likely to survive the Cup.”

“What cup?” asked the woman.

“A special one used to turn ordinary humans into Shadowhunters,” Magnus explained.

“So it _is_ possible!” she exclaimed.

“What’s the catch?” asked the tall hipster-type.

“Most people kinda die instead,” Eliot replied.

“Which reminds me,” Magnus said in a bright _changing the subject now_ kind of a tone. “Simon, these are Parker and Hardison. And now that everyone is here and knows everyone else, shall we progress to planning how to reacquire a certain ring?”

“Sighted or not, there’s still too many Mundanes in this room,” Jace objected.

“And you still owe me an explanation about pilots,” Simon told Lisa. “I assume you don’t mean the airplane kind. Or the naval kind.”

“Nope. I mean the Sight-variant kind.”

“I never heard of Sight-variants,” Jace said.

“You have, under a different name,” Magnus replied. “Some of what Shadowhunters call ‘angelic gifts’ are in fact variants of the Sight, which may appear among any Sighted people - though they’re _significantly_ more likely among those descended from Sighted bloodlines.”

Jace’s face lit up with understanding - then hardened with anger and worry. “So that’s why Valentine can’t know you exist.”

“But what does it actually mean?” Simon asked. He turned to Lisa. “You said it’s more than just being able to _see_ things.”

“It’s like finding a path,” Uri said. “The way is already there, you just need to find it.”

“The best way to reach an objective,” Eliot explained.

Hardison’s and Parker’s faced both lit with some sort of understanding. Whatever it was, though, they weren’t inclined to share - except in a silent eyes-only conversation with Eliot.

“An objective,” Jace repeated. “Like taking an enemy down in a fight. Or at least surviving it.”

“Works pretty well, most of the time,” Eliot said.

“If that’s what your piloting caught on,” Uri elaborated. “Everybody’s different. Also,” he turned to Jace. “You can still take more damage than either of us, so if anybody’s gonna get hit, I’d rather it be you.”

“No argument there,” Jace replied immediately.

For all that Uri seemed wary of Jace, the way they both just spoke was eerily alike: plain and factual, with an unquestioning acceptance of a world where such statements made _sense_ \- an acceptance that made Simon feel sick.

“Feel better now?” Magnus asked Jace. Something in his voice made Simon think he didn’t like what Jace and Uri had in common, either.

“Marginally.”

“I was hoping it won’t come to a fight,” Lisa said tentatively. “The - this sort of a ring has to be taken off when one goes to sleep. I was hoping we could use that.”

“Target’s an idiot if they don’t have wards up,” Jace said.

Eliot elbowed Hardison, who demanded “What?” then, in response to a pointed glare, pulled out a laptop. “Speaking of that ring, I have more photos of it here.”

Lisa was next to him in an instant. “Ooh. Gimme.” She sat down with the laptop and pulled the binder out of her backpack with one hand. “Okay. Let’s see.”

“More drinks?” Magnus asked brightly.

Jace gave him a stern look, which Magnus merely ignored, and went about ensuring everyone had something they could actually drink. The only alcohol that Simon spotted was Magnus’s seemingly-endless martini, and a beer handed to Hardison - who eyed the label with appreciation and interest, then lifted it like a salute to Magnus, who returned the gesture with his own drink.

That made Parker’s frown even deeper than Eliot’s.

“Okay,” Lisa announced after several minutes of intense study. “I have two pieces of good news. One is that I can date this ring to the 1600s, so odds are the guy who has the ring doesn’t have the skill to create one.”

“Which would’ve made him more dangerous,” Jace stated.

“Yes,” Lisa agreed. “The other bit of good news is, this ring does _not_ summon any of the demon princes.”

“Bad news is, it can control the entire lineage of whichever baron of Hell it does summon?” Magnus asked.

“I think so, yeah.”

“What happens if we knock the guy out while wearing the ring?” Simon asked.

“Most likely? The demon either devours the guy’s mind, gets knocked loose, or both,” Lisa said.

Jace added: “And if it gets loose, it’ll show up to grab the ring ASAP if it has any brains. Which, being a Greater demon, it does.”

“Right. Bad idea.”

“Lisa’s idea might not be ridiculous, though,” Magnus said thoughtfully. “What are the odds the mark’s wards are intended against Mundane threats, not just supernatural ones?”

“Depends on what his ‘Mundane’ security system is like,” Eliot responded. “Hardison?”

“Right. May I?” Hardison reached for the laptop, which Lisa handed back to him promptly.

He clicked away for a moment, then showed something to Parker, who responded with: “Ooh. Looks like _fun._ ”

“Uh-uh,” Hardison said, even as Eliot said: “It’s never good when you think something is _fun_.”

“What aren’t you saying?” Jace asked irritably.

“Parker here is the best thief in the world,” Magnus said. “There’s not a safe she can’t crack.”

Hardison turned to face him. “Which reminds me: _why_ have you been at our brewpub?”

“Because you opened it while I was researching your team, as Lisa didn’t?” Magnus offered.

“Seems legit,” Hardison said, nodding.

Eliot reached over for the laptop. “Give that here.” He looked at the screen, then said: “No way. If anything goes wrong, which it _might_ , _particularly_ with wards involved, none of us can get to you.”

Hardison looked at Magnus. “You said something earlier about being able to magic people into having the Sight, right? Will that help?” he continued, the second question directed at Eliot.

“Not enough.”

“But, it gives me an idea,” Magnus said.

 

* * *

 

Magnus’s idea was ingenious in its simplicity: he magicked a pair of glasses into a supernatural wireless camera. Then it was just a matter of Hardison arranging for an internet malfunction at Cogan’s house, and Parker going in as a technician, with Magnus and Jace on the other end of her comm.

Which was how Hardison and Eliot came to be chilling at a quiet street corner, waiting on Parker to drive the temporarily stolen van back to where it came from then make her way back to the portal point - said street corner. They both had their comms on; in lieu of having a half-dozen spare earwigs, Hardison had rigged it so those back at Magnus’s would get the sound through Magnus’s sound system.

Hardison could get to like the guy: he had a good taste in, well, everything, and was evidently prone to sharing. Plus, he didn’t even bat an eyelash at the team’s tactics.

Over the comm, Magnus said: “I take it back: Cogan did ward his home against Mundane threats after all.”

“It’s weird, though,” said Lisa. “Why’d he want to lock threats in rather than expel them out? It makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does,” said Parker, quickest of the three of them.

“If he was worried about thieves,” Eliot elaborated for the honest people.

Magnus made a noncommittal noise, then said: “I _could_ undo these wards, but then he’d know someone is coming.”

“How long would it take you to do that?” Jace asked.

“A moment or two. He’s no warlock.”

“I’m still amazed Mundanes can _do_ those things. I didn’t know it was possible.”

“Tell me,” Magnus sounded like someone who was only pretending to be amused, “where do Shadowhunters, preferentially, house Institutes?”

“Abandoned houses of worship. Why -”

“Consecrated ground. And _who_ consecrated it?”

“...Mundanes.”

“Exactly. Now. I assume you wanted to know how long it’d take me to undo the wards for a reason?”

“I think we should trigger the wards on purpose.”

“No fucking way,” Eliot said, at the same time as Uri said appreciatively: “High risk, high gain.”

“No,” Eliot repeated emphatically.

“Okay, can the rest of you explain it to us _civvies_?” Hardison asked sharply.

“Thank you,” Simon said.

“You’re welcome,” Hardison replied.

“Trigger wards,” Uri said. “Cogan summons demon. Dispatch demon. _Then_ undo wards.”

“And who’s to say it’s _a_ demon, singular? You people said he can summon an _army_ with that thing!”

“But will he?” Parker asked. “We can make him think it’s just me, right?”

“Definitely,” Jace answered.

“And when he realizes he was wrong?” Lisa demanded.

“That’s an ‘if’,” Jace said.

It sounded as if he had more to say, but Uri cut in: “And if he does, a bullet.”

“ _If_ necessary,” Magnus said, voice slightly raised, tone cautioning.

“Kacha atta makir otti?” Uri asked. He sounded positively insulted.

“Oh, we speaking in tongues, now?” Hardison said, getting _his_ insulted game on.

“He questioned whether Magnus knows him,” Eliot translated.

“Eliot, what do you think?” Parker asked.

Oh good. So she didn’t support the crazy plan _yet_. And Eliot looked unhappy, so hopefully he wouldn’t give it the go.

“I hate it,” he promptly replied. “But it minimizes risk of collateral, and I can’t think of a better one, so.”

“There isn’t -” Jace started.

Parker cut him off. “We wait until nightfall. Then we decide.”

 

* * *

 

Magnus left Lisa at the loft, coaching Jace, Eliot and Uri on how to make it past Cogan’s wards. He was capable of doing that himself, of course, for all that this was nominally Lisa’s area of expertise. She’d gone ahead and assumed that duty, though, and Magnus opted to roll with that. He wasn’t used to people picking up duties and jobs they knew him to be capable of; that was positively charming of Lisa.

It was something of a gamble, of course, to leave the entire party - Parker and Hardison included - at the loft and himself go elsewhere. There was something Magnus wanted to take care of, though, and it was best if he did that on his own. Of course, Hardison had outright asked where he was going but, to Magnus’s relief, retreated at being told Magnus was off to visit the biggest vampire den in New York.

Cogan had gotten that ring from somewhere - from some _one._ Magnus wanted to know who that was. More to the point, he wanted them _stopped_ \- but to achieve that, he first had to find out who they were. And when one was in need of tracing an arcane object’s provenance, a well-established vampire clan was often the best first stop. It wasn’t just that Raphael would know all of Camille’s usual contacts and then some; Magnus was at least as well-connected. It was also that as the leader of New York’s largest and richest vampire clan, Raphael could nose around without catching anywhere near as much suspicion as Magnus would’ve.

Mercifully, Raphael didn’t take over Camille’s administrative suite; or if he had, he made an exception for Magnus and met him at his personal suite. Either way, Magnus preferred it to the alternative.

“What happened?” Raphael asked soon as the escorts left the suite.

“Why do you assume that anything happened?”

“You never used to come over here. I figure it must’ve taken _something_ to change that.”

Magnus would’ve liked to deny that, but Raphael knew him better than that - was owed better than that. So instead, Magnus gave an elegant one-arm shrug, and moved on with the conversation. “I do have a favor that I’d like to ask you.”

“Name it,” Raphael replied without hesitation.

Magnus held forward his hand, and summoned the stack of photos with a small flare of magic. “This ring found its way to Mundane ownership.”

Raphael took the photos. He glanced at the top one, and immediately frowned. “Most Mundanes wouldn’t know what to do with it,” he said, in the tone of voice of one who well knew that wasn’t the case.

“This Mundane did,” Magnus agreed. “Does.”

Raphael’s frown deepened. “How big a problem is this Mundane being?”

“Not so big as to require _formal_ handling,” Magnus said; Shadowhunters weren’t officially involved. “But I do have another concern.”

“Who this Mundane got this ring from,” Raphael said promptly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll need a little more information than…”

Magnus summoned the printout Hardison had prepared.

“...that,” Raphael finished. He took the papers. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.”

Raphael shook his head. “The sort of attention this could bring… it could be bad for all of us.”

Shadowhunters only ever needed an excuse to wreak havoc on Downworlders; they both knew that.

“How are you doing?” Raphael asked suddenly. “We didn’t get to speak since you _conveniently_ sent me and that kid to fetch ingredients you already had.”

Yes, Magnus had probably earned that barb. But he couldn’t stand to have anyone witness his final farewell with Camille.

“As could be expected,” he said. Then amended: “Perhaps somewhat better than that. But it’s too soon to tell, really.”

“Better than I expected, then.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

“Good,” Raphael replied firmly. He gestured with his hand that held the printouts. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Thank you.”

Raphael smiled faintly.

Magnus huffed with amusement. “I have some guests I’d best get back to. You take care.”

“ _Que te vaya bien._ ”

 

* * *

 

They took a break between Lisa’s wards debrief and Parker’s one about the security system. Uri announced an intent to make coffee, and headed straight to the kitchen; Parker, curious - and probably a little suspicious - followed. Jace stayed where the notes and schematics were, and pretended to not notice anyone else. For his part, Eliot went out to the porch, supposedly to check out Magnus’s herb garden and probably intent on catching a few minutes of breathing space.

Hardison followed him.

Eliot must’ve known exactly why that was, because he threw his arm out quickly, gesturing at the greening pots. “Look at this. Look at these beauties, man.”

“Bane or not, the man has green thumbs,” Hardison agreed, because it was true. “Or else these are magical plants.”

“Nah, man. I’ll bet you they’re not.”

“Actually, I agree with you. He doesn’t seem the type.” Hardison suspected their host was like Sophie not just in his sensuality and hedonism, but also in positively thriving doting on others; the man probably sang to his plants, too. Hardison could only hope he had better taste in romantic partners than Sophie has.

But he didn’t follow Eliot to the porch to talk about Magnus Bane. He came out to the porch to have a little heart-to-heart with one of the two loves of his life, who had a tendency to assume he didn’t deserve nice things - a notion with which Hardison disagreed. _Vehemently_.

“By the way, man -”

“You don’t need to -”

Both stopped.

“Yeah, I do need to apologize,” Hardison said, very deliberately. “You _should_ have felt you can tell Parker and me anything. And if you didn’t, if you don’t, that’s on us; not on you. Parker’s right; I shouldn’t have asked if you’re messing with us, I should’ve -”

“No, you shouldn’t have, because that’s crazy. Demons? That’s the definition of crazy talk.”

“Dude, we were in the middle of debrief. You point out a threat in debrief, I should’ve done like Parker and listened first. And you knew I wouldn’t, so evidently, I fucked up. And I’m sorry.”

“If I tell you it’s fine, will you shut up?”

That Eliot said that told Hardison it was definitely _not_ fine, but that this was as far as he’d get for the moment and it was better to let up. “Yeah.” Hardison stopped for a moment to assess how they were doing. Eliot was still glaring at him, but his shoulders didn’t have that tense set to them, anymore. “How’d you find out about all this, anyway?”

“Tried to talk down what I thought was a spooked kid. Next thing I knew, I got knocked down by a hundred pounds of wolf. Shadowhunters who found the scene a little too late didn’t believe I was Mundane; said there’s no way a Mundane would get away from a werewolf alive.”

Of all the details missing in that story, the most glaring omission was what ever became of the werewolf. Hardison didn’t ask; whenever Eliot left details out of stories, it was always the same reason. Everything else Hardison needed to know, he got from the way Eliot came over to stand by him, both of them leaning over the railing to look at view.

Hardison jostled his shoulder against Eliot, and didn’t say anything more.

 

* * *

 

Uri and Parker came out of the kitchen carrying a small pot with a long handle, a trivet, and a stack of small glasses only a little bigger than shot glasses. Uri poured the coffee with a practiced hand. Then, Parker took three of the glasses and joined the other two members of her team on the porch.

That left Simon in the living room with Lisa, Uri - and, annoyingly, Jace. He’d been hoping to ask Lisa more questions, and try to get to know Uri - who she wanted so much for him to meet - but there was little chance of that happening with Jace in the room. Uri was brightly explaining why he didn’t dig through Magnus’s kitchen for cookies, moving with a quiet confidence Simon couldn’t hope to imitate, but the way he was eying Jace - that, Simon knew from the mirror: it was the way the shorter and darker Jewish guy measured up the taller and Very White guy, gauging how likely trouble was.

“So.” Uri plopped down into the armchair across from Jace; Simon and Lisa were sharing the couch. “Should I get a bottle?”

“What?” Jace asked.

“All of you look like you want to ask questions.”

“No,” Simon said, trying for firmness, “we are _not_ playing spin the bottle.”

“Why not?” Uri asked, with innocence that had to be fake but looked and sounded remarkably real.

“What’s ‘spin the bottle’?” Jace asked.

Lisa covered her mouth with her hands, trying and failing to suppress a giggle. “It’s a party game,” she explained. “You spin an empty bottle, and whoever the mouth of the bottle points to when it stops has to choose between telling a truth or doing a dare.”

“It usually involves a lot more alcohol,” Simon said. It was the wrong thing to say: Jace and Uri both gained a speculative, almost hopeful expression. “ _No_.”

“Yeah, it’s bad manners to raid the host’s bar without the host,” Uri agreed.

“I don’t think Magnus will be into spin-the-bottle, either,” Lisa said.

“Okay,” Uri said, entirely too brightly. “I go first. Why does Magnus think you won’t just turn around and spill everything to your Institute?”

The look on Jace’s face was priceless. “What’s your problem with Shadowhunters?” he shot back a second later.

Lisa put her glass away, leaned her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.

What the hell, Simon decided: it wasn’t like he could actually make it worse. He turned to Jace and said: “Because you’re crazy crusaders who, historically, conscript.”

Jace opened his mouth, closed it, then said: “That’s actually a good reason.”

“Thank you,” Simon said.

Uri raised both his eyebrows.

Grudgingly, Jace said: “I kind of got kicked out.”

“Wait, with your…” Lisa trailed off, with the look of someone who was rethinking her words. “I thought your people were usually more - thorough? Sorry!” She added quickly, her hands raised; the look Jace gave her was acidic enough to burn holes in stone.

“Look, I’m the last person who’s going to tell anything to Valentine, okay?” Jace said irritably.

“Why?” Uri asked promptly.

Jace just glared.

Simon looked between them. Neither one looked like he might back off. He’d’ve just gotten it over with, but - “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I get Jace. One, it’s kind of personal. Two, you might take it the wrong way,” he told Uri, who, for his part, only looked more stubborn.

“So where do you live?” he asked.

“Here,” Jace admitted.

Lisa choked on her coffee.

Uri blinked. “O-kay,” he said after a moment. “Magnus actually trusts you.”

Jace shrugged. “More like couldn’t justify to Alec leaving me on the streets.”

“No, I think Uri’s right,” Lisa said. She was still coughing. “If Magnus is letting you stay _here…_ ”

Jace visibly hesitated, then - quickly, as if he wasn’t quite sure his courage would last - said: “I was kicked out because Valentine’s my father.”

Uri spat out a mouthful of coffee. “Okay. Wow. Fuck.” His accent got thick in his shock. “I take it he’s an asshole in more than the genocidal way?”

“What’s ‘genocidal’?” Jace asked.

Lisa, Uri and Simon shared a look.

After a moment, Lisa said: “‘Genocide’ is the Mundane word for the murder of an entire people.”

“Why do you have a word for that?” Jace asked, taken aback.

“Because it doesn’t take demon blood to make someone evil,” Simon snapped, more sharply than - no: exactly as sharply as that statement _needed_ to be.

A portal opened up like an Iris, and Magnus stepped through. He looked at the four of them, then at the fresh coffee stains. “Do I need to know?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Uri replied.

Magnus looked sceptical. They didn’t find out whether or not he was going to comment, though, because Parker, Eliot and Hardison came in from the porch.

“We doing this?” Eliot asked.

“Yes,” Uri replied.

Jace pushed himself up. “So let’s roll.”

 

* * *

 

The tac plan was simple. First, Eliot, Parker and Jace were to get in position. Then, Eliot was to deactivate the Mundane security system - which would activate the wards. That should waken Cogan, who was likely to put the ring on and summon his demon. At that point the plan branched, since they couldn’t know which Cogan would summon: a greater demon, an assortment of lesser ones descended from it, or a warlock similarly descended. Should Cogan summon a lesser threat, Parker was to emerge from her hiding and taze him immediately; if the threat was considerable, the three of them were to handle that first and only then would Parker acquire the ring. Magnus was to wait until both these goals were accomplished before taking the wards out, unless the battle was going badly - in which case he was to blast through and come to their aid.

Jace didn’t like anything about this plan. To start with, he didn’t like going into combat with two Mundanes at his side. They were too vulnerable, too fragile, and no matter how quick or how skilled they were. Uri, at least, had packed protective gear: chainmaille, leathers, and vials of some sort of antidote which he’d divided among the four of them going inside the wards. He’d also brought inscribed knives, some of which he’s loaned to Eliot; Magnus and Hardison had put their heads together to improvise protective gear for him. The protective gear and the antidote should buy them time if - when - either of the Mundanes would get injured, but Jace didn’t like those odds: demon venom could kill Mundanes quickly, in minutes if not seconds.

He also didn’t like that they had no idea what sort of threat they’d face. The ring could be used to summon and control a Greater demon, any number of lesser demons or even a warlock, if the unlucky fellow was descended from the appropriate demon. Which of those Cogan had bound to him depended as much on luck as it did on his skill. Jace was hoping for a pack of lesser demons. A greater demon was almost always the worse threat, and no person deserved to be controlled in this way. Magnus and Lisa were in agreement Cogan probably couldn’t control a large number of lesser demons, so odds were Jace could kill _those_ before either Uri or Eliot had a chance to get hurt.

They had to kill it or them, if it was a demon or demons they’d be facing. Once the ring was activated - Lisa had explained earlier - the link between it, its owner and the demon it controlled was set, and wouldn’t break until either the controller released the demon or else either one of them was killed. The link was enough to prevent the demon from turning on their controller, but it wasn’t enough to let the latter order the demon with the ring off. And if it was a warlock that Cogan had found - well, they’d just need to last long enough for Magnus to get to them.

And because all of those things weren’t enough, Jace couldn’t glamour himself either, because that would’ve activated the wards. So he fitted himself into the dark nook in the hallway, just outside Cogan’s bedroom, and waited for Eliot to set off the wards.

Cogan woke up with a sharp intake of breath. In the meager light, Jace could see him reaching for something on his nightstand. Then, he said a few sharp sentences in a language Jace didn’t understand.

Dark smoke swiveled, gathering into a single shape. It was vaguely humanoid, but the shape and number of limbs was wrong, as was the shape of its head. It was no greater demon Jace could recognize off the top of its head, and a greater demon was unlikely to scent the air as if it was some kind of beast. Some kinds of lesser demons were considerably stronger and somewhat smarter than others; possibly Cogan had bound one of these.

Jace redrew his night-vision rune, activated his seraph blade, and charged right in.

Uri was there a second later, knife in each hand. Jace would’ve swore if he had the air and time for it: Uri chose to leverage his small size by sticking very nearly skin-close to the demon and so making useless the advantage of its size. It was a solid tactic, but it meant Jace had to be careful to not accidentally slash Uri along with the demon - or else trust to Uri’s piloting to keep him out of the way.

“Talk to me!” Eliot demanded over the comm.

“One demon,” Parker responded quickly. “Kinda tentacle-y.”

“Is it solid?” Magnus asked.

“Not entirely,” Parker replied.

“That’s not good.”

“No _shit_ ,” Eliot replied.

Seconds later, he came barreling into the fight. Like Uri, he didn’t aim to hurt the demon to much as to bother and distract it, giving Jace better openings; unlike Uri, he stayed at the edge of the fight, only pushing in where he saw a window or a need. He wasn’t as quick as Uri - who was nearly Shadowhunter-quick - but he had the greater experience, and it showed.

If the two of them weren’t wearing chainmaille and leather, they would’ve been down already. At least Uri’s knives were proving effective: not only did they cut the demon, but it flinched back from them. Jace had no idea what the signs etched into them were, but they worked, and that was the important part.

Eliot dropped to the floor. The demon’s taloned foot passed where his head had just been.

Uri turned like a dancer. Jace missed him by a hair’s breadth as he thrust his sword forward, but finally he drew some ichor.

Eliot ducked, aiming at what passed for the demon’s knees. The demon flinched. Eliot was very nearly kicked in the face and hit the ground. Uri turned into the demon’s movement and drew a cut across its back. The cut was shallow but it must’ve burned because the demon screamed - and that was the extra split-second Jace needed to draw back then slash with his sword in a wide downwards arc, all through the demon’s central mass.

That did it: the demon disintegrated into a mist of fine dust and acrid smoke.

Jace looked around. Parker had already tased Cogan unconscious, and was helping Eliot up. It seemed he rolled out of the way of that kick in time: the way he moved suggested he’d have epic bruising later, but probably nothing broken, cracked or torn. Uri, on the other hand, had a bleeding lash running down from his cheek to his neck. It was shallow, but Jace could see the thin black lines of demon venom spreading out.

Uri’d already gotten out one of the vials and unstopped it. Jace reached out, grabbed it from his hand and upchucked its contents over the cut: Uri sat down on the bed to pull the vial out, and his skin was already shining with sweat. He was going into shock. The antidote had better work or he wouldn’t make it long enough for Magnus to get to them.

It worked, but not well enough: the black lines paled, thinned and stopped spreading, but didn’t disappear.

Jace didn’t waste time asking if another vial would help; he just pulled out his stele. The basic healing rune was safe for Mundanes.

Uri pushed his hand away, though.

“Do you _want_ to die?” Jace demanded.

“What’s going on?” Magnus demanded over the comm.

“Demon’s dead, Uri’s injured,” Parker said, quicker than any of them.

“And the antidote’s not enough,” Jace said crossly. “It’s accept the healing rune or die.”

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “Uri, this rune is temporary _._ It’ll wear off in a couple hours. It’s _fine._ ”

At the word _temporary_ , Uri reached to undo his leather gauntlet. His hands were shaking, though, so Jace pushed his hand away and undid the straps and pull it off himself, before pushing the shirt sleeve up and drawing the rune on Uri’s forearm. Near the injury would’ve been better, but Jace would rather place the rune on the forearm then argue with whatever Uri’s objections to a rune that could _save his life_ were.

By itself, the rune wouldn’t have been enough. But with the antidote already applied, the black lines of poisoning begun to retract. The shakes were lessening, too.

“Wards are down, I’ll be there shortly,” Magnus said over the comm.

“I think we’re good,” Parker said.

Eliot shouldered Jace out of the way and tilted Uri’s head to examine the damage. “Pretty sure we’re gonna need some butterfly stitches, though.”

“Oh, I can come up with something better than that,” Magnus said.

Eliot looked at Parker. “Ring?” he asked.

She lifted her hand so the small object she held caught the stray ray of lamplight from the window.

“Good. Now let’s beat it. It stinks in here.”

“I was hoping to catch a _chat_ with the guy,” Jace said.

“That’s your problem,” Eliot said. “How’re you do-” he began to ask Uri, but Parker didn’t bother with that nonsense: she just inserted herself under the guy’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. She did so easily, betraying a strength that Jace hadn’t realized anyone so slender could have.

Eliot reached up to clap Jace’s shoulder on the way out. “See you in a few.”

Parker began to move, but Uri paused and made eye contact with Jace.

“Go gentle,” he told him.

“Seriously?” Jace demanded, exasperated.

Uri shrugged. “Only person you need explain yourself to is yourself.”

Parker nodded, as if she agreed. Then the two of them left, leaving Jace with the unconscious man who - Mundane or not - had managed to summon a God-damned demon.

 

* * *

 

When the portal opened and the demon-killing party returned, Hardison went straight for Eliot and hugged him hard as he could. It was a lesson learned from years of living with and loving the guy: Eliot could and _would_ lie about a cracked rib or any number of other injuries. The only way to make sure he was all right was up close and personal. An injured Eliot would either tense from pain - Hardison’s hugs were _tight_ \- or else force his body to relax more than was normal.

That Jace kid might have a stick up his ass, but Hardison noticed that neither Magnus nor Eliot argued with him about the danger of _fighting a demon_ \- and Hardison knew Eliot’s tells well enough to know that Eliot agreed. Parker didn’t engage directly in the fight but Eliot - him, Hardison needed to check up on.

Eliot returned the hug easily and without hesitation, then pushed Hardison off after a few seconds with a gruff “Now, get off me.”

It was suspiciously normal Eliot behavior. Hardison looked at Magnus; something about healing magic was mentioned over the comms, but Hardison hadn’t realized just how effective it would be. Which, given _portals_ , he really should’ve. “You, I like.”

“I’m sorry, I do have a boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t owe you a beer. Or a cask.”

“I’d be delighted to sample your brews. But as you,” and he gestured to include Eliot and Parker as well, “brought to my attention and helped solve a problem that, to be honest, wasn’t yours to solve, I insist that my facilitation of said help be on the house.”

“Whatever, man. I still owe you a beer.”

“Well, if you insist -”

Uri facepalmed. Loudly. Magnus gave him an artful disapproving look, to which Uri replied with a remarkably believable innocent one.

Hardison could get to _like_ these people.

“Why are you arguing?” Parker asked.

“We’re not really arguing, babe,” Hardison replied.

Parker thought about that for a moment, then pointed at Uri. “Then I agree with him.”

Uri looked smug. Magnus looked like he was trying - and failing - to not find the exchange endearing.

Yeah, Hardison could get to like these people, all right. But first things first; he glanced down at his arms and the front of his shirt. Eliot, Uri and Jace all had splotches of viscous, foul-smelling goo on them, and some of the goo transferred to Hardison when he hugged Eliot. “What is this stuff, anyway? Ectoplasm?”

“Ichor.”

“So yeah, basically ectoplasm.”

“It’s not -”

“How do I get it off?”

“With warm salt water,” Magnus replied. “Thank you, Lisa.”

Hardison turned his head. Lisa was returning from the kitchen carrying a large pot, a bowl perched on top of it and several dish towels slung over her arm.

“Can’t you just magic it away?” Hardison asked.

“I can, but ichor being arcane in nature, it’s much easier to just wipe it off.”

“Or at least wipe off most of it first,” Lisa said. She’d set the put down on the table and dunked the towels in it, the bowl set aside for - presumably - the dirty towels.

“Thank you,” Hardison said.

“You’re welcome.”

Uri facepalmed. Again.

Eliot rolled his eyes, and swatted him upside the head.

 

* * *

 

Once they were done cleaning up, Uri glanced at his watch. “It’s nine in the morning back home; I should get going.”

“I’ll draw you a portal,” Magnus said.

Uri hugged Lisa, then Simon, this time proper hugs. Simon tried to not wince; Uri was stronger than he looked.

Then Uri glanced at Lisa. “Give Simon my email, yeah?”

“Obviously.”

Eliot and Uri measured each other up for a second, then Eliot grudgingly accepted a one-armed hug that was almost more of a mild back-slap.

Surprisingly - at least to Simon - Jace got a proper hug. Between the expression on Jace’s face and Uri having to stand on tiptoe, it was positively comical.

“What Lisa said earlier about your people,” Uri said to Jace, “how serious can it get?”

Jace hesitated. Uri must’ve read something in that, because he turned to Magnus. “His people pull shit, I want to know.” He turned back to Jace. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll take it with Aunt Meirav and Grandma Shosh and try, okay?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Very few places are safe for an exiled Shadowhunter,” Magnus said gently. “Israel is the best option of those.”

The expression on Jace’s face made Simon wish he weren’t in the room. For a moment, Jace looked vulnerable and young, and it seemed to Simon none of them should’ve been witness to that. It wasn’t fair, somehow.

Then Magnus drew that portal, and Uri was gone.

“Guess it’s our turn,” Eliot said; Magnus left the portal open.

“Wait, it doesn’t matter that…” Hardison began.

“No man, you just think of where you want to go.”

“Home,” Parker said immediately. “The brew pub.”

“Better aim for the back room,” Eliot said. “As it’s already open for the night.”

“Good thing Amy’s used to us, then,” Hardison said. He made as if to hug Magnus, but noticed the look on his face and instead pressed his palms together at the level of his chest and bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“The invitation to beer stands.”

“I’ll be sure to take you up on it, one of these days.”

Then Eliot, Hardison and Parker left, too, leaving just Jace, Simon and Lisa.

“I think I’ll head out,” Jace said abruptly. He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed, and left through the door; Magnus hadn’t shut the portal yet.

“It _is_ 2AM,” Magnus pointed out to Lisa. “Unless you want to stay for one more coffee?”

“Wish I could,” Lisa said apologetically, “but I have plans for tomorrow and Simon and I didn’t actually get to _talk_ yet.”

It occurred to Simon that unlike him, Lisa needed to sleep. “I can -”

“No, no,” she waived off what he was about to say. “It’ll help me wind down. It’s been A Night, you know?”

“Then yeah, sure,” Simon replied. “I’d love that.”

“Then let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Lisa heaved a relieved sigh soon as they stepped into her living room. “Thank fuck that’s over. I don’t know if I want booze, tea, or booze in tea.”

“Definitely booze in tea.”

“Let’s put that kettle on.”

Simon watched Lisa as she filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove. “You’re really not used to this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, and you are?”

“I thought I wasn’t. Then I looked at Hardison waiting for his friends, and realized that I’m sort of there. Which, to be completely honest, scares me even worse.”

“Understandably.”

“Holy shit. Thank you. You’re like - the first normal person I got to actually _talk_ to since Clary found out she’s a Shadowhunter.”

Lisa opened her mouth, closed it, then asked: “Who’s Clary?”

“My best friend since ever.”

“Wow, but it sucks to be you.”

“Would it be weird if I thanked you again?”

“Wait, is that how you and that Jace guy know each other? Because it seemed like you do. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re not; and yeah, we do. Unfortunately. So,” Simon said hurriedly, before Lisa could have more questions, “what’s going to happen to that ring?”

“Well, Magnus is going to keep it until I talk to the Steinharts. They’re one of the local Bloodlines. They’ll probably want it in _their_ safe.”

“You said I should make friends with the Bloodlines,” Simon said carefully. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to be around for a long time, Simon. A sense of continuity helps.”

“So I get to watch people grow old and die.”

“That’s going to happen anyway. But with a Bloodline that knows who and what you are, you don’t need to remove yourself from their descendants’ lives.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Which reminds me, is there any point interesting you in in a kosher diet?”

“There’s a kosher diet for vampires.”

“Yeah, voluntarily donated human blood. Preferably intravenously administered, but there’s a psychological value to oral feeding.”

“Isn’t human blood, like, crack for vampires?”

“Most of that is the bite, so you should be fine with bagged blood. I can help arrange that for you, if you’d like.”

“I might take you up on it. Not so much for the kosher thing, I mean, if that’s all right. It’s just - I don’t really get along with my clan.”

Lisa blinked. After a moment, she said: “One day I might ask you if it’s okay to ask how you got turned. Tonight I just don’t have the spoons.”

“One day I might tell you. Just - yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The kettle whistled. Lisa poured the hot water over the tea bag, then opened one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a bottle of brandy. She put it on the counter, then stopped and seemed to think of something.

“Do you have blood on you?”

Simon pulled a hip flask out of his pocket. “Never leave home without it - learned that the hard way. Why?”

Lisa opened a different cupboard, pulled a tumbler out and held it out to Simon. “Pour.”

Bemused, Simon did. While he did that, she pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. “Seriously?” he asked.

“One tablespoon, you can stomach.” She measured it in carefully, then removed the tea bag from her mug and topped it off with the brandy. She turned to Simon and held the mug up. “To new friendships and lasting ones?”

He clinked his glass against her mug. “Amen.”

 

 


End file.
